Visiting My Dreams

March 4. God called to heaven the sweetest warrior this world has ever known. Too soon. Unfair. Angry.

March 10. We held a beautiful service celebrating the too short, ever beautiful, full of love life of a 4 year old dear to my heart. Her name is Lilly. Say it out loud. Never forget.

But let me take you back a bit to 1997 before we get to that.

My father was diagnosed in 1992 with esophageal cancer at the age of 35. I was 12. My parents were beginning to split up in the midst of it all. My world was rocked.

Fast forward 5 years. Hundreds of days in the hospital. Chemotherapy that took him to the brink of death and dozens of pills to bring him back. Radiation burns. Surgery after surgery after surgery. Losing the ability to eat. Shrinking to 106 lbs. He was 6 feet tall, y’all. SIX FEET TALL and 106 lbs. Bones sticking out in places I didn’t even know we had bones. Divorce finalized.

December 23, 1997. Time is up. No more they can do. I rush to the hospital but can’t bring myself to go in the room. Angry. Scared. It’s too soon.

I finally bring myself to enter the room. Angry. Sobbing. Asking “Why you? Why me? Why now?” Despite pain, despite fear, despite worry, he answers “Better me than some kid.” Who can argue with that?

He dies on Christmas eve, 1997. Before his parents. Siblings. Anyone else I know.

In the years since, he’s come to visit my dreams. At first, it was frequent. He must have known I needed that. His smile. His voice.

Over time, he has come less frequently. He visits my children instead.

It’s been about 5 years since I’ve woken with tears on my pillow and a smile on my face, waking from his visit in my dreams.

Oh, but this day. THIS dream. The tears won’t stop but the smile remains.

May 14. It would have been his 62nd birthday. It’s always a tough day. Every year. No matter the time that’s passed.

I had trouble falling asleep that night. Tossing and turning, I prayed. “Come see me, Daddy. I miss you.”

Glorious joy. He did. It’s taken me a week to just squeeze it out. Here. For the first time.

It’s bright. And light. And just a bit hazy. I see her first. She’s giggling. That infectious giggle I’ll never forget as long as I live. She sees me and waves.

My heart may burst. There you are, sweet face! She’s whole. And unblemished. And her dark hair gives way to a slight breeze.

I race toward her but I don’t seem to be getting any closer. She’s still out of reach, smiling and waving.

And then I see him. His boots, really. He’s wearing cowboy boots, as he always did. I notice those first. She has her arms wrapped around his leg.

He is whole. Handsome. Ageless. Tall and strong, eyes twinkling with mischief like they always did.

I run faster but I’m not getting any closer. Tears falling. I call out, “Daddy! It’s me!”

He smiles, shakes his head, that full head of wavy jet black hair bouncing, “Of course it’s you, Punky!” I hear a chuckle.

I stop dead in my tracks. They’re all there. All of them. My grandparents. My uncles. Walking slowly toward me. Walking. I can’t stop staring. I’ve never seen her out of a wheelchair. She smiles and blows me a kiss.

I’m weeping. I miss you. Please stay. You never come see me anymore. They begin to turn, walking toward the light. He and I watch each other for a few moments. We’re both smiling.

She’s radiant. Happy. Whole. She’s running between his legs, playing a game I used to play with him when I was a child.

“I can’t reach you, Daddy!” I cry out. He smiles.

“I’ve got her, sis. I’ve got her.”

He does. HE DOES. I take a deep breath.

“You’ve got her, Daddy?” I ask. “Promise?”

“I promise, Punky. I’ve got her.”

Those 3 words are carried on the breeze as he kneels down to tell her something. She smiles and takes his hand. Standing tall, he takes her hand and lifts her up on his shoulders. She giggles and ruffles his hair.

All I can hear is “I’ve got her” over and over as the breezes blows my hair into my face. I smile at them both.

They begin to wave. I wave weakly as their image gets wets. Cloudy. Tears. Coming faster.

I can’t take my eyes off of them as they walk away, backs to me, joining the rest of my family on the other side.

One of my uncles says something and she giggles. One last, beautiful, soul shattering giggle.

I wake up smiling. My pillow is wet. Soaked. I see my husband sleeping peacefully beside me. My dog is snoring. They are gone. I am here.

I wipe my face and I smile.

I sleep a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

He’s got her. I can rest.